The Ghosts of Hogwarts
by ChaosKirin
Summary: Harry discovers a young, recently deceased ghost wandering the halls of Hogwarts. This brings to mind the question: Why do they stay?
1. A New Year

**To Kill a Person**

E. Elizabeth 

"Hold. _You hold!"_

"Wait, Harry!"

He turned around. Really, the idea was for them to follow him, back him up, take care of a few things while he took care of others. It was the end of their sixth year, and it should have been happy with the knowledge that soon, everyone would get to go home. _Should _have been. Something always happened at the end of the year. "Hold," he said again to the others. It was his hope that eventually, someone from the castle would find them. There would be trouble, but at least they'd be safe.

So he turned from them, and along with Ron and Hermione, headed into the forest.

Chapter One 

They hadn't been safe. Even with the whole summer to think about it, he couldn't come to terms with the fact that he'd just left them there to die. Well, not all of them had died, actually. They'd all been hurt in varying degrees. Seamus was minus two fingers on his left hand - or right, it didn't matter. He'd been hurt. That's what mattered. Neville was still in St. Mungo's, but he'd be all right in a few more weeks, they said. He'd miss the start of the term, but Harry knew he'd catch up. Susan Bones broke an arm and a leg, ironically enough, and Terry Boot lost an eye. It was amazing how the boy looked now, though... As if he'd never been injured at all. He turned his head to the right a bit when he spoke to anyone, but that made sense. If you're going to look at a person, you don't just want to see half of them.

No, only one had died. Harry remembered her voice, too - the one that told him to wait. Actually, lots of people told him to wait, but it would have to be Amber's voice he remembered. If it had been Neville, he would have remembered Neville's voice. If it had been Luna, then Luna's. Though Harry didn't consider anyone a 'nobody,' Amber Matthews had been about as close as she could get to one. She was a new member of the Defense Association; just joined about midway through last year, actually. The girl was terrible with duelling, and couldn't summon a corporeal Patronus. For a Hufflepuff, she was pretty smart, though. That's probably why he let her go in the first place. After living a couple days with her injuries, though, Amber just couldn't make it anymore.

And now that he'd failed Cedric, and failed Sirius, and failed a whole bunch of people he'd rather not think about, he'd finally failed a girl. Some would think that in a war, chivalry would be dead, and that you'd really only think about the _people _you ended up with, rather than the gender they happened to be. Harry couldn't help it, though. Even though he'd seen people die now, he'd never get used to it. Not ever. He knew what he had to do. He knew that he couldn't ever give up his dream...

...At the same time, he was slowly becoming more and more jaded. He felt as if he were pushing Amber's death aside, trying to cope with it without feeling it. Actually, he hadn't gone to the funeral, and he regretted that now. At the time, he felt that if he could distance himself from it, it wouldn't seem as real, and he needed it to not seem real. Was this what all Aurors did? It wasn't that he was an Auror yet, but he was definitely heading down that road. Did they just learn how not to feel? He couldn't think of Tonks just... not feeling. Or Moody. Then again, Tonks did distance herself, in a way. She never looked exactly the same twice, and Moody... Well, Moody was crazy. Would Harry find his niche as an emotionless shell?

Ginny squeezed his hand. She'd been holding onto it for some time now, and Harry knew it. It's just that he'd chosen not to respond to it until she made it known. Looking over at her, he gave a little smile that didn't last long, then went back to walking through the old wooden doors of Hogwarts and into the entry hall. The year seemed emptier, even with all the people running around, even with all the laughter and 'glad-to-be-backs' from friends... There was still a definite emptiness to it all. It was in the sad smile one of the Hufflepuffs offered Zacharias. It showed up in Michael Corner's bowed head as he walked through the door behind Harry and Ginny.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," Ginny said.

He was required to say, "I know," so he did.

"Let's go to the Great Hall," she continued. "The Sorting..."

Harry nodded, offered another smile, and allowed Ginny to lead him. In some corner of his mind, he knew he'd get over all this, but that was so far pushed back that he could only see the current situation: That was, he just wanted to let things happen, and continue to not let them bother him. It was nice not to argue, and to just nod his head and agree, and let other people make those choices for him. In short, he didn't care. Not at all.

"She was a nice girl," Ginny went on. "And this is your seventh year. You should try to at least enjoy it. There's nothing you can do for her now." Harry nodded again, turning to look at her.

"I just need a little time. Everyone does, I guess. Look, if I'd sent everyone back..."

"We went with you because we wanted to, Harry. Amber did, too, and I'm sure she wouldn't want you moping about her. She's in a better place now, or so they say." Ginny was quiet for a moment. "Do you think people go somewhere when they die?"

Harry nodded again. "I talked to Nick once. There's something, but he's never seen it. They're like echos, ghosts are. They're... Well, I guess they're like a piece of a person. Like all their memories, at least as far as I can figure. Something holds it to the earth and won't let it go. That's about all I figured out. He seems to want to go there."

Ginny arched her eyebrows. "Why doesn't he?"

Blinking, Harry stared at her for a while as he was jostled by a pair of Hufflepuffs heading past them and into the Hall. "Why doesn't he _what?_"

"Leave."

Honestly, the thought of a ghost just leaving hadn't even occurred to Harry. "Well, if it's even possible, Nick would have done it by now. He's miserable, as far as I can tell. A nice guy, for a ghost, but he's miserable." Harry went back to his stony silence as the two of them strode into the Great Hall. It seemed Ginny knew, or at least suspected, that the boy was trying to give her a hint. Perhaps it was the repetition of the word 'miserable' that did it, and Harry definitely _was _as much. He hadn't been able to get it out of his head all summer. Not that anyone really noticed, though his Aunt Petunia did ask him what was wrong at one point in July. That was after they'd forgotten his birthday.

Actually, Harry was in a reasonable mood today. He even smiled as he and Ginny sat down next to Ron and across from Hermione. Perhaps it was that he felt like he _couldn't _forget, as he certainly seemed to want to. In fact, for several minutes, he just reveled in the company of the others before remembering he was supposed to be moping. It was then that he wondered if maybe Ginny was right, and he _should _just accept it. His reasoning was bouncing all over the place today.

And then Ron asked, "Did anyone go to that Hufflepuff's funeral?" He could be a bit insensitive at times. Harry went back to frowning, though not before he noticed that Ginny shot him a Look.

"Her name's Amber," she said. But no one answered an affirmative to the question as to whether or not anyone went. Ginny went on. "I heard it was nice, though. I got a letter from Hannah over summer, and she and Ernie went." She leaned in a little closer to Harry. "It was a nice service, from what I heard."

"If she'd just been a little quicker..." Hermione muttered, looking at the clean golden plate in front of her. Soon, it would be piled with food. For now, it appeared to be a very good thing to stare at uncomfortably. They continued speaking in hushed tones as the first years were called forward for the sorting, though none of the names really seemed to register at all. Perhaps he just wasn't paying any attention. There were applause, though, muted, from each of the four tables. It was a nice reception, all in all, and as the others chatted, Harry turned to watch as Professor McGonagall finally took the old hat away for another year.

Harry attempted to think of something to say, but it was then that Dumbledore summoned everyone's attention to the front of the Hall again. He always seemed older, every year. There wasn't ever any loss of vitality or spirit in his eyes, but in some ways, the old wizard just seemed to creep further and further along in years. True, he'd already lived a very long time, but it was almost as if that spark was finally starting to dwindle, just the slightest bit. He was still a pillar of strength, at least as far as Harry was concerned. After all, the war was weighing heavily on them all.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together once, then again, and the entire congregation of students fell into near-silence. Though the room was quite large, the headmaster needed nothing to boost the sound of his voice. It carried, and with it always came a message that everyone would do well to abide. Not that a lot of people ever _did._ Harry included.

"I'd like to welcome you all to another year at Hogwarts. As worried as you all may be, I'd like to reassure you that while you are inside these castle walls, you are safe. Of course, 'inside the castle walls' may have a few of you scratching your heads, so I will get this out of the way as quickly and as painlessly as possible. Due to there being several unavoidable dangers on the school grounds, Quidditch will have to be put on hold, at least for now." There was not a student in the hall who didn't groan at the news. "Care of Magical Creatures classes will be held in the dungeon under Gryffindor tower. Herbology classes will be held in the South tower, which is perfect for such a class, with its many windows." Dumbledore turned to offer a smile to Professors Sprout and Hagrid. "I'd like you all to be very clear on the point that it isn't just the forest that's off-limits this year, but the very grounds themselves. Unless you are in the presence of an escort and have explicit permission, you are to stay within the castle, or in the inner courtyard."

It would definitely make things difficult, that much was certain. Still, Harry found himself not caring as much as he usually would have. The headmaster continued. "Before we get onto more serious matters, like eating, it is my pleasure to introduce your new Defense Against the Arts instructor, William Medley, whom I trust will receive a warm welcome from you all."

Again, there were muted applause. Several people exchanged worried looks... Defense teachers didn't tend to last long around Hogwarts.

"I must reiterate the warnings conveyed in past years," Dumbledore went on. "It is absolutely imperative that we show a unified front, as failing to do so can be detrimental not only to yourself, but to the people you care about. I can't lie, and I won't. Though you'll find that some try to cover it up, you must understand without a doubt that we hold classes in the midst of a war. There will be casualties." If it was possible, the Hall fell quieter for a moment, and the elderly wizard allowed that to hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "We do our best to protect the ones we love, and that's all we really can do.

"And lastly, you might notice a peculiar face about the corridors as you go to classes. She's a bit shy, but don't be afraid to say hello. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." Dumbledore smiled, and with the end of his speech came the enormous start-of-the-year feast.

As Hermione loaded her plate with meats and potatoes, she asked, "A peculiar face. What could he have meant by that?"

"Take a look over at the Slytherin table," Ron answered, lifting a breadroll to point in that direction. "I don't know about you, but I see a _lot_ of peculiar faces right there."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Somehow I don't think that's exactly what he meant. It's probably just a cat. Maybe Filch got a new cat." She added some fresh cooked vegetables to her plate. "Then again, if it's as bad as the other one, I don't think she'll much appreciate us saying hello."

"Think Snape will be as toxic as he was last year?" Ron went on, the subject of the peculiar face forgotten, for now.

"Do you think he _won't?_" Harry had to wonder. "Last year, we had homework up to our ears, and we have NEWTs at the end of this year. I won't be surprised if he's _worse._"

"Of course we're going to have more work." Leave it to Hermione to rationalize it. "We're leaving school in June. You have to expect it. There's still a lot to teach us in one year, so I'd be rather disappointed in the administration if they went easy on us."

The only one _not _staring openly at Hermione was Ginny, and she was smiling knowingly into her plate as she cut apart a potato. Even Dean and Seamus stopped talking to turn and look at her. She looked offended. "What? You didn't expect this year to be easy, did you? Honestly, the _lot of you..._"

Dinner was pleasant. Harry left hand-in-hand with Ginny, thinking maybe his constant bad mood had been the fault of the Dursleys. Back at school, even with danger so close by, he felt at home. Sure, there was still a heaviness, but he felt like he belonged, and that the problems were still problems, but they could be dealt with in time. Things would be all right. Hope. That's what he felt. Hope. And it felt good.


	2. A New Face

Chapter Two 

"Oi," Ron said, turning to look at Harry. "I've enough homework already to last me for the next week alone. I don't see how I'm going to get it all done and still have time for Prefect patrols."

Hermione tsked. "We adapt, Ron. We did last year."

"But _every class!_" Ron complained, his footsteps falling just a little heavier on the stone floor. "Perhaps I just ought to cut out sleeping. It seems to work for you, Hermione."

"I do _not_ cut out sleeping," she returned. "I just use my time efficiently, is all. I sleep when it's appropriate, and I get up _before _noon on Saturdays. It's not hard."

"It is if you want to sleep," Harry mused helpfully, drawing a smile from Ron. "Besides, tomorrow, we have Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid, and he shouldn't give us much homework. He usually doesn't anyway."

"Well, if you want to pass your NEWTs at the end of the year, you ought to hope the teachers are a little tougher on us. There's still a lot to learn." Hermione did have a point, thought it was slightly annoying to hear about it all the same. At least she wasn't being condescending. Her tone was almost conversational. "You can do a little work. It won't kill you."

"I don't know," Ron said, checking his watch. "Some of the things here are pretty harmful. Speaking of which, we're to endure Malfoy in the Prefects' dinner meeting in a half hour; we should probably get going, Hermione."

The two of them peeled away from their friend at the next junction, heading to the lounge area where the Prefects usually all met. Ron turned around to look over his shoulder as they went. "We'll meet you back in the Common Room, Harry."

He waved, offering a last smile before he allowed himself to relax, slouching just slightly now as he went. It was funny how the phrase, 'carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders' actually seemed to apply recently. At the end of the day, he felt run down, and there didn't seem to be any way around that. It didn't feel quite as bad today... Harry earnestly hoped that the stress he'd been feeling since last June was starting to dissipate a bit. Perhaps returning to his friends was a good thing... Out of all the years _not _to be removed from the Dursley's house early, the previous summer was probably the worst, given the situation. If only he could have stayed with Ron's family, or even Hermione's. Now sheltered within Hogwarts' walls, though, Harry felt the return to a normal routine, and always, there came that glimmer of hope.

Dinner would be in a little over a half hour, so the halls were pretty noisy with all the students packed into them. It got like this every year around this time, given the excitement of new studies and new experiences. It always interested Harry to observe the first years, especially the Muggleborn ones who never seemed to quite fit in right at the start. Hermione had been the exception. Then again, for something to phase Hermione, it had to be something exceptional, and that only happened once in a great while. Not everyone possessed her mettle.

In any case, the crowded corridors weren't helping the young Gryffindor's mood, and so he felt it best to perhaps head off in another direction. It would take longer to reach the dormitories to drop off his things, but a little bit of a walk never hurt anyone, and besides, it occupied his time well enough to justify it. He turned down a slanting corridor, which almost instantly changed direction, and just around the corner, he nearly ran right through a ghost.

Neither the victim nor the ghost tended to like that very much. Besides that, it was a little embarrassing. Stepping back, Harry ducked his head, excused himself, and continued on his way.

He'd gotten a couple steps when the ghost called his name. The voice was familiar, and when he turned around, he could see why.

Harry took a step toward her, trying to get a better look, but it was hard, given the fact that she was pretty translucent now. "Amber?" he asked. She looked up from the floor, a bit of a cocky smile on her face, and nodded. It was at this point Harry felt the bottom sort of drop out of his stomach, and he experienced a brief feeling of dizzying vertigo before he managed to find himself again. Though he'd never really been frightened of the castle's ghosts before, this definitely came as a surprise.

It was eerie, how she didn't show any sign as to how she'd died, though as she approached him, she walked with a limp. Harry glanced at the side that seemed injured, but there was nothing; he couldn't understand why she'd walk like that. "I was trying to listen to everyone talking," she said, tucking a few strands of long, silvery hair back over her shoulder.

"Dumbledore said..." Harry began, but he couldn't help just sorta staring at her.

Amber smirked, automatically reaching out a hand to playfully bat at Harry's shoulder. For a moment, she looked horrified when it went right through. Harry himself winced at the chill feeling he got from it, as it was distinctly uncomfortable. Recovering, Amber replied, "I was there, in the Great Hall. I heard him. I guess I'm the peculiar face."

"...Hi," Harry said, following the Headmaster's advice to offer a greeting. He wasn't sure what else to say, given that he was looking right at the ghost of someone he'd known when she was alive. Amber noticed the apparent discomfort, and frowned.

"Look, it's not so bad. I don't have to go to class." She shrugged. "It's just that I can't really... do much of anything else, either."

Harry finally threw off his astonishment, nodding for Amber to walk along with him down the corridor toward his House. Sometimes it just helped to ponder on the move, at least for Harry. He wasn't a pacer by nature, but in this case, the thought of putting one foot in front of the other for a while just to _do it _seemed like the best idea he could come up with. She followed after, silent footsteps falling in just beside his own. He looked over at her, finding that she stared straight ahead as they walked, hardly wavering at all. Finding the need to say _something,_ Harry finally remarked, "You stayed."

She nodded, but didn't offer any explanation, so Harry prompted, "Do you know why?" When she bowed her head, Harry was acutely aware of the fact that she was trying to be cheery in the face of something that really bothered her, and she was thinking about pushing the conversation aside. He could almost see the wheels turning, but he wasn't going to stop her if she didn't want to talk about it.

"I guess I did," she said, without offering any other explanation. She bowed her head again, looking at the floor, which could be seen right through her feet. It seemed as if she was forcing a smile, trying to be cheerful despite the fact that this really bothered her. Was she going to push the conversation aside? Harry could see the wheels turning as she searched for something to say, and he decided that he wasn't going to complain if Amber chose not to talk about her condition.

"I don't know why." Amber finally spoke, eyes fixing on Harry's. "Professor Dumbledore told me that he'd talk to me about it when I was ready. I keep hoping, you know, that there's a way..." She trailed off. "I just remember thinking that I didn't want to die... I didn't want to die. Over and over. Didn't think that this would happen. I guess in a way, I chose it, but I didn't mean to. Had I been in a proper state of mind... I don't think I would have..." She pause, shaking her head and switching topics. "When I first woke up, I went through all the books in the library, trying to figure out if there was anything I could do. There wasn't. It's so weird, Harry, once I figured out how to read them. I can actually go right through the pages. It doesn't take that long at all."

Okay, so she was a smart ghost. He offered her a bit of a smile, and they walked on in silence for a while. She stepped heavily next to him, but her footsteps still made no sound at all. In comparison, _his _shoes scraped against the floor with every step. It didn't seem right, but Amber didn't seem to notice. "Amber, I want to say that I'm sorry." It was a rare opportunity to apologize to the person that died under your care. He almost wished it were Sirius walking next to him in the corridor, but at least it was someone. At least there was one person to which he could apologize.

"You know," she put her hands into the pockets of her robe. "At first, I wanted someone to blame. That thought stayed stuck in my mind for a long time. I guess it happens to a lot of ghosts. Time moves slower. A lot slower. It's..." She paused. "Anyway, I talked to Myrtle, and I talked to the Friar... They told me some things, though Myrtle mostly just seemed glad for the company. Had an odd way of showing it, though... Kinda cried the whole time.

"I was confused. I don't think the way I used to. I'm still myself," she added quickly for clarification. "I still have all my memories, but I don't forget anything anymore. Once I grab on to something, I can't let it go." She looked rather severely at Harry. "The thing I remember most was... When I died, I was bound to Hogwarts. I woke up, and I was scared, and I thought you should know that I don't think it's your fault."

Harry nodded. "But you did."

"I did."

He sighed. "I probably should have sent you all back. I thought it was a trap or something."

"Did you find out what happened?" she asked.

"They thought I'd stay to defend the castle. They were trying to lure everyone else away. It didn't work like they thought it would work, and in the end..."

She shook her head. "It was an accident. I was just in the wrong place." They turned another corner, and Harry started up the steps that would end at the landing to the Gryffindor tower. Amber looked around for a moment, and, deciding that the hallway was still devoid of a lot of people, started up after him. It was at this point that she started floating, just a couple inches off the steps next to Harry. It was very strange to see it, but at the same time, he had to be glad on some level that she was adapting. She noted him watching her, and smiled. "Neat trick, isn't it? I don't even really think about it anymore."

Harry nodded a bit, turning his attention to the paintings on the landing above them. "It might have been, but you're not going to get another chance, are you?"

It was a moment later when she was still silent that Harry realized that what he'd said was probably hurtful. It wasn't good to remind a sick person that they were sick, and it went without saying that reminding a dead person that they were dead was also a bad idea. "Amber, I'm sorry."

She never was one to dwell on things. Harry didn't really know her that well, though they'd become friends the year prior, but one thing he did know is that the Hufflepuff tended to shrug things off rather readily. It was an admirable quality. She nodded, the corners of her mouth turning upward just a little. "I suppose I ought to get used to it," she said. "I'm dead, after all. There's no used denying it, is there? Other people won't be as nice as you are. I'm almost afraid to hear what the Slytherins have to say."

"Have you been to your House yet?" Harry asked. She shook her head, and he continued, "Are you going to?"

"The Friar thinks I should," she replied. "He thinks it'll be easier to deal with. I guess he's right. I talked to Zacharias, actually, and he was a bit surprised, but we talked about Quidditch for a while. Made me sad, a bit."

"Sad?" Harry inquired, before realizing why. Instantly, he looked from her back to the paintings.

"I have forever to know I won't be able to play anymore," she replied, her voice cracking just the slightest bit. "I can watch the games... I can go anywhere, as long as I return here. I could even go to the World Cup. Watch it free. Best seats in the house, too, if I wanted."

Harry couldn't say he knew how she felt. He'd been banned _once, _and it was torture. He remembered when he was facing a lifetime ban, and he thought for a while that he'd never live again. This was a lot different, though, and he was starting to feel bad all over again. Not only had he failed to save Amber's life, but she wasn't even in a better place. Or, at least, this part of her wasn't. She was stuck on earth as a ghost, and he wondered how long it would be before she just gave in to misery.

"I'm going to help you," he finally said.

Amber looked at him, blue eyes narrowing. "What?"

"I'm going to _help you,_" he repeated. "There has to be a way. If there wasn't..." He paused, trying to think of the ending to that statement. He came up with something on the fly. "If there wasn't, there would be a lot more ghosts, wouldn't there?"

She arched her eyebrows. "If there was something, don't you think the others would have... You know... Done it? It's all right at first, I guess, but... Harry, you'll be an old man, and I'll still look like I'm seventeen. It's just the way things are."

He had to admit, she definitely had him there. Sir Nicholas tended to put on a happy front, but there were times he longed for something else. Times he distinctly came across as miserable. Harry imagined that if he had the chance to leave, he would have.

They continued up the steps in silence until they reached a point where Amber wouldn't follow. There were quite a few people milling about ahead... They could both hear them. The ghost stopped, and a few paces later, so did Harry. He turned back toward her.

"Amber, I'll find a way to do... Something, all right?"

"If it'll make you feel better," she said, snickering a little. "But really, Harry. I'll be all right. I mean, there are other ghosts in the castle, and I'll still have a talk with Professor Dumbledore..."

"It'll make me feel better. Just... Where can I find you?"

She looked surprised, though appreciative. "I don't know. I don't stay in once place long."

"I'm going to talk to Ron and Hermione. I'll look for you in a few days, all right?"

Amber nodded. "It's not like I'm going anywhere," she said, as she turned and limped away.


	3. A New Idea

Chapter Three 

Harry remembered very clearly the first time he saw a ghost. In fact, he remembered a lot about his time at Hogwarts fairly clearly, but all things considered, seeing a ghost for the first time just stuck in his mind for years. They always seemed so apart from him though, probably because he hadn't known any of them before they died. Amber didn't feel so distant, however, considering just the year prior, she'd been attending classes with the rest of the students. That she died remained even more impossible to believe now that she wandered the halls of Hogwarts as a ghost. It didn't seem like any sort of way to live.

His textbooks provided no answers, unfortunately. Perhaps if he'd thought to go to the library instead of up to his dormitory, he might have actually located something worthwhile. However, since Harry decided it better to wait for Ron and Hermione, now that he'd already been waiting for close to an hour, he thought maybe he ought to wait a little longer. They'd turn up eventually, since it seemed just about time for the Prefect's meeting to be over.

Finally exhausting the resources in the text, he set the book aside, rolling off his four-poster to stand. He could see Dean across the room studying... Something Harry himself should be doing, really. Faced with a new puzzle to solve, though, he had no intent of sitting down and attempting to learn the intricacies of the last goblin revolution. History of Magic was a bore... The situation with Amber, though slightly morbid in a bare sense, was interesting. Harry did wave to his Housemate, though, as he passed by, and the other boy offered a smile, looking up from his work in that way people do when they want to get back to what they're doing as soon as possible. Harry left him alone.

He actually bumped into the very two people he was looking for on his way down the stairs. Hermione offered him a smile. "We figured you'd be up here. 'Meet us in the common room' indeed. Were you studying already? It looks like you're finally learning."

"Well, I suppose you could change it to 'on the stairs,' if you wanted," Harry returned, leaning up against the wall to allow a couple fifth years to pass by into the dormitory above them. "You might say I was studying. There's a bit of a... Well, I've been waiting to tell you. I found something."

"In the couple hours we were gone?" Ron asked. "Nothing happened, did it? You seem all right."

"I'm fine," Harry replied, glancing upward and back toward the seventh-year dormitory. "Dean's up there, but I don't think it matter. You ought to come, too, Hermione."

"As if she wouldn't," Ron replied, which drew a smile and a sharp elbowing in the ribs from the Head Girl. Ron continued. "I told her to wait in the common room and I'd go find you. I think she's decided she can march up to the boys' dormitory any time she feels like it."

Harry chuckled. "Well, as long as you knock first." He turned to lead them up the stairs again, pushing open the partially closed door so they could enter. Ron threw his schoolbag next to his four poster before joining Harry and Hermione over near Harry's section of the room. Dean was definitely in earshot, though it really didn't matter if their Housemate heard. It seemed like a few people who knew would be all right, but for Amber's sake, Harry would keep the talk to this room. Dean always seemed like the level-headed sort, so hopefully he wouldn't go telling the story around, either. There was enough trust between the two that they could understand, and that was important. Even if people did see Amber on the walk to Gryffindor House, it was under her control that they did. She probably didn't want - or need - people seeking her out. Harry tossed aside the open textbook on his comforter to make room for Ron, who jumped up next to him.

They were looking at him expectantly, but he still wasn't sure, exactly, how to say what needed to be said. Stalling, he asked, "How'd the meeting go, anyway?"

"It was boring," Ron replied, rolling his eyes. "Malfoy felt it unfair that Anthony should be head boy. He didn't outright say it, though... Just dropped hints when it was appropriate. Of course, that's only because Professor Dumbledore was there. I'm sure we'll be hearing it in earnest now that he doesn't have to pretend to be polite."

"The Headmaster knew what he was trying to do," Hermione added, "But he'd just smile. He definitely stands by the appointments he made. We all do."

"And Anthony?" Harry asked.

"I think he's definitely fit to be Head Boy," Hermione said with a glance at Ron, who nodded. "He knows how to affect the students - positively - and that's what Dumbledore really wanted." Harry wouldn't say it here, but he knew that's why Hermione was chosen as the head girl. He really couldn't think of a better person for the job. Anthony, too, seemed like the encouraging, authoritative sort... Though Harry would have liked a chance _himself... _Well, as Dumbledore told him after the fight in the Ministry, there was too much on the plate already to be worried about finding himself in a position of authority.

"I think it'll be all right," Ron said in an attempt to draw Harry out of the silence into which he'd fallen. When Harry looked up again, he noticed that the two of them were watching him with that expectant look again, and it became clear that there wasn't a way he could put this off any longer.

He glanced over at Dean, who was still immersed in his reading. Satisfied, he turned back to the others. "I found the peculiar face. The one Dumbledore was talking about... You know."

"I thought it might have just been a new student," Hermione began, stopping any further comment when Harry shook his head.

"And Ginny thought it was a cat," Ron added.

"No, not a cat, or a student," Harry repeated. He still mentally searched for a way to say it and make it, perhaps, not seem so harsh as he felt it was. "It was definitely peculiar, though. I saw her on the way back here to drop off my things. I thought maybe then I'd go to the Great Hall, but I wanted to wait for you."

Hermione blinked, her brow furrowing. "A new teacher? We've already met the Defense instructor, and he's--" She trailed off when Harry shook his head again, before changing the subject. "Harry, you ought to just tell us. It seems to be bothering you."

He ran a hand through his dark hair and nodded. "It is. I saw Amber."

As predicted, two sets of eyes stared at him for a long moment before Ron finally commented, "Amber Matthews? The Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, it was her," Harry said. "You remember what happened to... Well, it wasn't exactly that. But you know how Myrtle came back? Amber did, too. She doesn't know how, really."

"...She's a ghost?" Hermione asked. Her expression looked pitying, so it seemed as if she'd come to the same conclusion Harry had... It wasn't exactly a great way to live. Still, he nodded, because she was exactly right.

"She was all right, as much as I could tell," Harry said. "And she looks fine, except for a bit of a limp. I wonder why they do that. I mean, why is Sir Nicholas 'nearly headless' when he doesn't have to look like that at all? Or, why's the Bloody Baron covered in blood? It doesn't seem like she's in any pain, but she's limping."

Hermione considered for a moment. "It must be their last memory... I don't know, really. You know what happened to her, though, Harry."

He nodded, silently.

"Did she say anything?" Hermione prodded.

"No, not much," Harry replied, shaking his head. "It just seemed as if she... I don't know. I thought maybe I could help her."

"You know as well as I do that bringing someone back isn't possible, Harry," Hermione said. Then, perhaps realizing that Harry _did _know all about that, she allowed her tone to soften. "Are you sure it was her?"

"I talked to her for a while. A few minutes, anyway. She's a bit sad, I guess. Still smiling, though."

"That had to have been creepy," Ron added, looking slightly away. "Someone you knew when she was alive..."

"I think it was just as bad for Amber," Harry explained. "She reached out to pat my shoulder, and... You know. Her hand just went right through. She looked like she was going to cry for a second there."

Everyone was quiet for a while. Hermione seemed to be thinking, while Ron seemed to be trying to ponder his way through how someone he knew to be dead was somehow alive again, or, rather, in a distant approximation to living. His eyes narrowed slightly as he wondered and his nose scrunched up a little as if he were rather put off by the whole thing.

Hermione finally spoke up first. "Well, there's a bit about the Hogwarts ghosts in _Hogwarts, a History,_" she said, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "Nothing much about ghosts themselves, though... Just a bit about the people, and even then, not all of them. Mostly just the House ghosts. What is it you're trying to do, anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Nick said something about there being a place where people went when they died."

"But if there was..." Ron started.

"Right, they would have already gone there. It makes sense. But if there's a way, I'd like to find it." Harry rubbed at the back of his head, looking between the others. "I just don't think it's fair that she'd have to spend forever as she is now, you know? Even if this is just an echo she's projecting..."

"We'll figure something out, Harry," Hermione said, standing. "I don't know if it'll be what you want to hear, but it'll be something, at any rate." She turned toward the door, but before she could get through it all the way, she stopped herself. "You know, Professor Binns is a ghost _and _a history professor. If there's someone in the castle who knows, it's probably him. We can ask tomorrow after class."


	4. A New Confusion

Chapter Four 

Professor Binns taught History of Magic at Hogwarts for years. Rumour had it, among some who were bored enough to perpetuate such rumours, that he was already dead by the time Professor Dumbledore started teaching at the school. The only thing anyone really knew of him was that he'd left his body behind him one morning, and that none of the staff at the time saw any reason to expel the old man's ghost from the castle. One thing remained a certainty - Professor Binns knew his subject extremely well.

Harry had to wonder, though, if his lectures were this boring when he was alive. Amber mentioned something about not thinking the way she used to. Could she have become trapped within one thought, perhaps of revenge? Could Professor Binns have been a decently fun and kind man when he was alive who just happened to get stuck thinking about the class he taught?

The lecture went on, and Harry's head drooped lower and lower as it rested on his hand. He didn't quite notice it until his chin hit the table with a rather painful thump, which drew chuckles from his fellow Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs who were present in the class. Blinking, he looked up to see that even Hermione's note-taking seemed to be going slower than usual. Her furious scribble was more of a meandering scrawl at the moment, though at least she was paying attention. Ron, on Harry's other side, was fast asleep.

Hermione barely glanced up in order to note that Harry had come out of his boredom-induced stupor. "Good, you're awake," she whispered. "I've checked the schedule, and Binns has a class after this, so it won't be long before people start arriving." She stopped taking notes so she could look at him again. "You know what you're going to ask, right?"

Nodding, Harry felt confident that yes, this time he knew what he was going to talk about It'd be the first time he stayed after to ask Professor Binns anything, and he couldn't imagine the ghost would be easy to talk to. Still, he knew what he was going to ask. Hermione, with a nod, went back to her note-taking. Harry attempted to write a few things down as well. Most of what he was absorbing from the lecture wouldn't help him with any writing assignments or quizzes... His notes, likewise, probably wouldn't be much help, though at least he could say he had them.

When the class finally let out, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in an empty classroom only seconds after dismissal. It was amazing how quickly it cleared out when the students were allowed to go. Meanwhile, Professor Binns floated in the front of the room, book in hand, as if the dismissal of class was no reason to cease teaching.

Ron elbowed Harry and Hermione. "You notice how he can hold things? Like books? Our essays?"

"Amber said she couldn't," Harry mused, heading down the broad steps to the front of the room. Binns didn't even seem to notice anyone still present. "She said she'd go through them and learn things that way."

"Sir Nicholas can, too," Hermione added. "Though it's rare. The last thing I remember him actually holding onto was that note from Sir Podmore. Unless you've seen anything else?"

Ron shook his head, as Harry leaned on Professor Binns' desk, clearing his throat. The old ghost looked up. "Yes? Can I help you, Mister Porter?"

"Potter," Harry said. "Anyway, I was wondering..." He paused as the professor's eyes wandered back to the book he was reading. Just in case, he raised his voice a little. "I was wondering if you could tell me anything about ghosts."

"I should think so, yes," remarked Professor Binns, turning the page of his book. "After all, I am one."

"That's why we're asking," Harry said. His voice still a bit louder than what he'd use in a normal conversation. "I was wondering if maybe you knew of a way to get to..."

It was here he paused, because he wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. Ron continued for him. "A place where people go when they die. There's one, isn't there?"

For a moment, Professor Binns actually appeared surprised, though the neutral, bland expression he usually wore soon returned. He placed the book on the table, and after some thought, he answered. "It's an inherent belief, I suppose, though I've never actually seen it, so I don't know myself. It can't be proven, only debated."

So... It could exist, but it could _not? _"Er..." Harry said. "So, you're saying..."

"I'm saying I've never been there," Binns answered, and by his tone, he sounded rather final. However, as he looked around in his cabinet for the next class' books, he added, "It can't be proven as a fact, only an idea. Though most of the castle's ghosts, if asked, will say that they feel it."

"Any you?" Harry asked.

Binns considered this. "I have felt something. It could just be that I'd like to believe there's something there, though, as no one has actually been there to report back on this. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Do you have any idea how to get there?" Hermione supplied, stepping forward. The professor eyed her strangely for a moment, and she explained. "There's another ghost in the castle..."

"Ah, yes. Well. I'm afraid I can't answer that for you," Binns replied, opening another book. His attention turned toward the reading, and Harry noticed that there were some seventh-year Ravenclaws already arriving. "As I said, it has no basis in fact."

"We'll just be going then," Harry said. The only reply was a grunt, and so he, Ron, and Hermione hurried to get out of the class.

"That wasn't any help," Ron complained as soon as they were safely in the corridor. He walked between Harry and Hermione and just slightly behind, so he could easily hear what they said. "In fact, now we're further from knowing, because he said it might not even exist at all."

"That isn't what Nick told me," Harry said. He tried to remember how the Gryffindor ghost put it. Something about 'Going on,' and that he didn't know the secrets of death because of the path he chose. It wasn't much, but he hinted at there being something. The way Binns put it, it seemed so final. If you were a ghost, it was the last step in your life, end of story. "He said that Sirius wouldn't have come back."

"I don't think I would, either," Ron said. "It's a bit creepy, isn't it? Why would anyone choose that? I mean, it's nice to live forever, but when you can't do half the things you'd like to... Imagine seeing a whole chocolate cake and not being able to taste it."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, Amber chose it, in a way. She's not sure how, though. She said she remembers thinking about not wanting to die, and I guess that would do it." Harry shrugged. "It still doesn't make a lot of sense. I'd think the same thing if I knew I was dying, and Nick specifically said you had to _choose _to become a ghost."

"At least we know a few things about ghosts," Hermione said. "They aren't really who they are... It's just an echo... A piece of that person. And they have to choose to become that, it doesn't just happen. Why do you think Nick chose to become a ghost? Did you ask him, Harry? After all, I think Myrtle stayed behind to haunt that one person who was picking on her. Nick must have had a reason."

Harry shook his head.

"I think we should talk to him, then," Hermione said.

"He's usually not that difficult to find," Harry said. "It might take a while, but he tends to stay out in the open. It's just a big castle..." He turned off down a corridor leading toward the dungeon where Sir Nicholas had his Deathday party. Maybe they could find out a bit more about ghosts from him... Maybe not, but it was worth a try. Hopefully he'd be in a better mood today than he was that time a couple years ago when Harry wanted to talk to him about Sirius' death. Ron and Hermione followed, and though they searched for some time, he didn't turn up. They were just about to give up and go to the Great Hall for lunch, when a voice piped up from behind them.

"Were you looking for something?" it asked. When the three of them turned, they found the exact ghost they were looking for hovering a couple feet off the ground.

"Nick!" Harry exclaimed. "Actually, we were looking for _you._"

"How very delightful," Nick said pleasantly, falling in step next to Hermione. "There's something I can help you with, then?"

"We were wondering," Hermione started, "Why you chose to stay behind when you died."

The ghost arched pale eyebrows, looking at Hermione as if this might be a joke of some sort. However, he likely reached the conclusion that Hermione wouldn't joke about things like that, because he went on. "This isn't about Amber," he said.

"Well, in a way," Harry replied. Nick nodded, slowly.

"I don't know if I'll be able to stop you," Nick said, "Though I should ask that you leave Amber alone if she wants you to. The first couple hundred years are somewhat difficult."

The trio was silent for a moment, absorbing this, before Harry said, "She asked for help." Which was the truth, in a way.

Nick eyed them for a moment. It didn't seem like he was able to disbelieve Harry or Hermione individually, and when they were together on something... "Very well. I stayed to prove my innocence."

"Innocence?" Ron blurted out, then said, "Oh."

"Well, they tried to cut off my head for a reason, didn't they?" Nick remarked, chuckling rather dryly before turning what Harry thought were sad eyes toward the wall. "I was innocent, too. Though by the time I was _able _to prove that, the people who accused me were long gone."

"You were a ghost, though," Harry said. "You could have gone anywhere... No one could have hurt you. No one could have stopped you."

"Ability and desire, Harry," Nick said with another sad smile. "And if you'll excuse me..." He lifted his hat off his head, which bobbed a bit before settling back down, and walked straight through the dungeon wall.

The three Gryffindors could only stare after the space he'd been for a moment before Ron said, "What was that all about?" Harry and Hermione shrugged. Ron peered around a doorway and into the classroom where Nick would have gone, but he shrugged. There wasn't anyone there. "It seems as though he didn't want to talk about it."

"It seems to me like he didn't want anyone to see he was innocent," Hermione added thoughtfully, drifting toward the stairway again so they could get back into the warm upper halls. "Which doesn't make much sense, considering that's exactly why he seemed to have stayed behind."

"Maybe we should ask the Fat Friar or the Bloody Baron," Harry suggested. He noticed that Ron shivered at the mention of the last one. Hermione shook her head, though.

"They're hundreds of years old, Harry. I think if we're to find anything recent, perhaps about why someone wouldn't do what they intended to do when they chose to become a ghost..." Hermione paused, looking back at the both of them. "I think we ought to talk to Amber."

"I don't know if she'll want to talk, though," Harry said. "She only talked to me because I almost walked right through her. She's been hiding from almost everyone."

Hermione didn't seem to have an answer to that, and Harry himself was a bit caught up in his own thoughts as they headed toward the Great Hall for lunch. There were new bits of the mystery popping up at every turn it seemed. First Binns partially-but-not-really confirming that there was some sort of afterlife, then Nick being very vague about what he did after he died. Strangely, he hadn't withheld the information about why he'd chosen to stay, which struck Harry as being very odd. Wouldn't your reasoning behind staying be worse than what you did _after? _Not necessarily. Besides, Nick might not have been telling the whole truth about why he returned as a ghost...

He knew Hermione was right. He'd have to talk to Amber again and see what he could turn up about her reasoning. She claimed she didn't know, but perhaps if they talked for a bit... He'd need Hermione, no doubt about it, and Ron, too, because sometimes he had a bit of insight that no one else thought of. Among the three of them, plus Amber, they should easily be able to figure it out.


	5. A New Lead

Chapter Five 

Amber, unfortunately, wasn't anywhere to be found. Not the next day, or the day after that, or even over the weekend. She seemed very good at not wanting to be found. It was as Harry, Ron, and Hermione were heading to their Defense class the next week that they finally ran into her, and that was only because she'd been looking for Harry.

"I'm sorry," she said as they settled down into an empty classroom. It didn't seem like it had been used in quite some time. Harry noticed that as Amber walked in front of them toward the row of windows, she actually disturbed the dust on the floor a bit. "I lost track of time."

Hermione brushed off one of the desks and took a seat atop it. "Well, that's all right. We must have just been missing each other. We've been down the hallways dozens of times..."

Amber shook her head, and Harry noted that she looked confused. Almost embarrassed. She didn't look at them when she turned away from the window. "There's some rooms above the towers. There's one that's pretty shut off, and that's where I've been staying. I haven't really been... Well, I thought I'd be able to tell by looking at the sun, but there weren't any windows."

"You've just been staying up there?" Ron asked. The Hufflepuff ghost nodded. "I just don't want to be seen."

"Well, you'll have to sometime--" Ron was cut off by a rather angry glance from Amber. Harry hadn't ever seen her look that fierce before, even on the Quidditch pitch.

"I said I don't want to be _seen,_" she snapped, albeit in a rather quiet tone. She seemed to notice that the others were looking at her rather strangely, because her expression mellowed, and she attempted a half-smile. It didn't quite work.

"Er... I don't mean to be offensive or anything," Ron went on, sliding off the desk he was on to go sit next to Amber. "I didn't think ghosts really got embarrassed."

Amber shrugged, any attempt at a smile failing as she managed to look even more distinctly uncomfortable than before. "I'm not, really," she explained. "It's weird. I don't know what's going on... I thought I was fine before, back when... Well, it was hard to accept, of course. It's just that..."

"You don't know what you want," Hermione supplied, just as an observation.

Amber nodded. "It's like I need something. Can't reach it, though."

Ron looked at Harry, who nodded and went on to ask, "Is it a place?"

A distinctly confused expression crossed Amber's face as she seemed to consider this, idly rubbing the back of her neck and pulling strands of translucent hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, I think it is. How did you know?"

"We've been talking to Nearly Headless Nick," Harry said. "And Professor Binns, but we can't really figure anything out much. Nothing helpful, anyway." He scuffed his toe through the dust on the floor, wishing he had something of the more cheerful variety to tell. He said he'd help her. It was a promise. And he didn't really want to fail her again... This was almost like being given another chance. He looked up from his feet just in time to see Amber slump a bit against the glass, though she was wearing that smile she had on the day he first met up with her in the halls. She was still trying to keep positive, but anyone could see that it was failing.

"We'll just have to ask a few more questions," Hermione said, finally breaking into the silence. "There are a lot of ghosts in the castle. I'm sure one of them can help."

"Wouldn't they have left by now if they knew--" Ron started, but Harry shook his head and he stopped in mid-statement. Amber already heard, though, but she didn't focus on the fact that help seemed rather hopeless at the moment. Instead, she had another question to ask.

"Left?" She stood up, taking a couple strides toward Harry. Again, she left footprints in the dust. "Left where?"

"The place people go when they die," Hermione replied. "We think that's what you might be feeling. But..." she added with a look toward Ron. "Ron's right. We don't have any leads yet. It just seems to be a general idea."

Harry noticed the fact that Amber was looking more cheerful than she'd looked before, though. It even looked as if there were a bit of color to her instead of the silvery translucence she'd become. "But there could be... something," she said.

Hermione nodded, then said, "We've got to get to class now, though. Where can we find you? Where have you been staying?"

Amber looked hesitant for a moment, as if she didn't want to divulge this secret. Finally, she answered, "I'm at the top of a spire next to Ravenclaw tower. I'll stay there until you come for me."

To Harry, that could be a long time, though as they waved goodbye to the Hufflepuff ghost, Harry wondered if she didn't look maybe a bit younger than he did now. It was probably just him imagination. Given that she'd never age, he felt he probably would look for something like that, and a few days or weeks would probably just seem like the blink of an eye for her. Hopefully they'd be able to help in the end... They had a point A and a point B, but nothing in the middle to get between them. Something would have to fall into place eventually. It always did.

Worse teachers had been hired for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. William Medley was average. An older man, he planned his lessons with meticulous attention to detail. One meeting, the class would cover theory, and the next they would either do a small project or a practical demonstration. His lectures were almost Binns-like in excitement, though the class listened well to Professor Medley's words. Notes well-taken meant they wouldn't have to dwell on the lesson during the practical part of the class.

This lesson wasn't terribly dull anyway. It was a combination of science and magic, which focused on the spread of the werewolf curse and its integration into the minds and bodies of its victims. Even though Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew a werewolf personally, Hermione still felt the need to take incredibly detailed notes. Harry and Ron scribbled various things down as well, but only the things they _didn't _know.

One thing was for certain, Medley was a good teacher. He knew the material without relying on a book, and he was _normal. _Well, as far as anyone knew, anyway. They'd all been surprised before.

Just as the hour was up, he dismissed the class, as Harry heard him ask Dean to stay behind to set up the practical for his third-year Slytherin class. He offered his Housemate a sympathetic smile on the way out; who _really _wanted to help set up a lesson for _Slytherins? _

"That was a fascinating class," Hermione said as she made sure she had all her books with her. She tended to carry quite a few. Then again, she was taking the most NEWT classes by far among the three of them. She still had a couple classes in the afternoon to attend; Ron and Harry were finished.

"It wasn't bad," Ron replied. "Not much we didn't already know."

"Really, Ron. There was a tonne I didn't know. Or at least quite a bit I'd forgotten from third year. It helps to have a refresher now and then, you know."

Hermione had to get on to her next class, so she headed off opposite Harry and Ron when they reached the next junction. It was still a long time before dinner, so they headed back toward the tower. They talked briefly about doing homework, but there would probably be a game of Exploding Snap going, or Gobstones, and if there wasn't, they could probably distract themselves with a game of Wizard's Chess. Harry definitely thought he was getting better, though the more he played against Ron, the more he wasn't so sure.

"So," Harry said, moving his last Bishop to take one of Ron's pawns. This didn't seem to phase Ron, who looked at the board with and air of disinterest for a moment before easily capturing that Bishop. "Do you think we should tell Hermione we've been playing chess this whole time instead of doing homework?"

"Well, we've been doing homework in a way," Ron said, waiting for Harry to move his King out of check before capturing a pawn. "Chess takes a few math skills. It's like we're doing Arithmancy."

"We're not in Arithmancy, though," Harry observed. He managed to capture one of Ron's knights, right before Ron check-mated his King and ended the game.

"Oh, right, she'll see right through that," Ron commented as he gathered up his pieces and took a look at his watch. "Well, then. About time for dinner."

Harry started putting his pieces into the box, and was just looking up to answer Ron when he noticed that Dean was hurrying across the common room from the portrait hole toward them. He kneeled next to the table. "Hey, you two," was his greeting.

"Have fun with the Slytherins?" Ron asked, closing his box. Harry could hear the pieces shuffling around a bit inside.

"Not really," Dean admitted, "But that's not the point. Their lesson was about ghosts. The whole thing. Medley even asked Nearly Headless Nick to help with it."

This piqued Harry's interest, and by the look of it, Ron was rather curious, too. Dean smiled. "I head you guys talking about Amber the other day. Sorry to overhear, but I was _right there._"

"No, it's all right," Harry said. "I don't think it matters much." Considering Amber constantly hid up in the spire next to Ravenclaw tower, Harry didn't think that, even if Dean went looking, he'd find her.

"So?" Ron prompted, leaning in a bit. "We had a lesson on ghosts third year, too, remember? If it was the same thing, then..."

Dean shook his head. "But it wasn't. This guy... He's an expert on ghosts. He knows... Well, he knows things I haven't heard before. I think if you want to help Amber, you should talk to him. He didn't say a whole lot, but what he did say..."

"It can't hurt. Maybe we'll catch him in the Great Hall. That way Hermione'll be there, too. We can talk to him then." Harry stood up, tucking his chess set under his arm.

Just under a half an hour later, Ron and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Hermione joined them not too long after, and they were able to relay the message from Dean: they might have someone who knew about ghosts, and they were going to ask him as soon as he got here.

"Haven't you noticed?" Hermione asked, looking up toward the head table.

"Noticed what?" Ron replied, following the direction of Hermione's gaze.

"Professor Medley hasn't taken a meal in the Great Hall since the Welcoming Feast. I think he just goes to his dormitory or something. I don't see him after class a whole lot, either." As the food appeared on the table, she ladled some vegetables onto her plate. "I went to ask about the end-of-the-term essay--"

"Already?" Ron asked. "It's barely the second week of school...!"

"..._just _to be prepared, and no one had seen him. I think he keeps to himself." She added a bit of chicken to her plate before she dug in. "I think the best time to catch him is right before or right after class. He seems nice enough... Just odd."

"Well, that's nothing new from a Defense instructor," Ron said, plunking a cob of corn down in front of him. Harry had to nod.

Hermione shrugged. "Well, if what Dean said is true, we'll have class again in a couple days. We'll just ask him after."

"I don't like to keep Amber waiting," Harry muttered, though he already knew that the young ghost probably wasn't even feeling any time passing. It must have been strange, learning that time really had no meaning for you anymore.

"You could get out the map," Ron whispered quietly enough so that Seamus and Dean, who were sitting rather close, couldn't overhear. "You'd find his dormitory pretty quickly that way."

Harry looked up at Hermione, who was giving him a rather severe look. "No," he said. "It's all right. I don't think a couple days will hurt. This time."

What one says and what one does, of course, are two completely different things.


End file.
